If I Told You I'd Have To Kill You
by Cloud Green
Summary: Congressman and Bed and Breakfast owner Burt leaves his son for a few days in the quiet season but the teen is soon woken by a darkly mysterious late-night stranger named Blaine who is looking for somewhere to stay for the night. Mysterious!NON DARK!Blaine. Not my usual story. One-Shot


A.N. I was originally going to post this one-shot as part of my 'Many Shadows' collection but finally admitted to myself halfway through writing that it didn't fit at all and I'd be cheating if I pretended it was Dark!Blaine. It started off being sinister and more like my usual style but then I sort of took alternative routes at every point and finally ended up with this mess of a story. Dark, romance, action, fluff – I couldn't even stick to one genre! Essentially I completed the first quarter then took a massive hit of writer's block until my dad (who was only told the outline of the fic, to safe on shocking him into an early grave) proposed taking it in a new direction. Though I'm not a fan of it myself, it took so many hours to put together so _it's getting uploaded!_ Now I can focus on other things! Woohoo! Hopefully it will also buy me a little more time for a proper new chapter.

My next update will probably be this in the 'Many Shadows of Blaine Anderson' – The Red Light District, if you're interested in reading the plot on my profile – because The Rebound Arrangement is currently experiencing writer's blockage that I'm trying to work through.

Disclaimer: I own nothing – not Glee, not the characters, nothing. Only this specific plot, and that's all I'll boast about. Also, I am not American (hence the predominant UK spellings) and I don't know a great deal about Lima, Ohio, or the American legal/law system so if my research is wrong I do apologise. :)

Warnings: Swearing, some violence at some point, sinister plans, sex scene. 

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><p>If I Told You, I'd Have To Kill You <p>

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><p>Kurt Hummel was not one for swearing. In fact, he often berated his father for cursing at the TV when his football teams were playing exceptionally bad or when he hurt himself working in the garage. No, not even when Burt sustained a burst car cap to his knee was he able to scream obscenities in pain without Kurt's pouting reprimands. However, when the doorbell started to ring consecutively at two AM one night, the first word out of the rudely-awoken nineteen year old was a well formed 'Shit!'<p>

He rolled over in his bed and squeezed his eyes shut after checking the time. This is not fair, he thought. In less than five hours time his alarm would spring into life and he would have to get ready for a full day of lessons. Whoever was destroying his night of rest with bell ringing and door knocking better have insurance, as Kurt was ready to kill.

Pulling on a college sweatshirt over his otherwise naked upper half, Kurt fastened his pyjama bottoms tighter and slipped on a random pair of slippers which padded quietly as he descended down the stairs to the front door. 'Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit...' Kurt moaned in pity for himself crossing the freezing cold hallway. The fresh layer of snow brought about by the day before still chilled the air. Only as his hand clutched the door knob did Kurt at last consider this late-night visit might be more than just 'an irritation'. His father was currently in Washington working on introducing a new radical bill - what if something was wrong? What if his dad had taken ill in D.C.? Would they send someone round like this, or would they have called first? With an expression somewhere between frustrated and concerned, Kurt yanked open the door and-

-Was met the most beautiful face he had ever seen.

The young man's eyes widened in slight surprise as he took in Kurt's sudden appearance. 'Oh!' Looking like he had been moving to leave, the man turned back round to face him fully. 'Hey there. I'm very sorry for bothering you this late. Really, I am.'

Dressed in fitted jeans, a winter coat with snowflakes glittering the shoulder areas, and a pair of sleek yet discreet latched boots, the young man's jet black hair swayed a little from the wind and his lips were dark from the cold. However Kurt was mostly captivated by his chocolate-meets-emerald eyes beneath thick lashes. 'I... What?' was all Kurt's mind allowed him to say. He flushed in embarrassment as the stranger's mouth flickered upwards in a charming grin. 'I mean, it's no problem.' _Good recovery..._ 'Can I help you?'

A gloved finger pointed up and for a moment Kurt stood confused as to what the man was referring to. 'Uh... The room?' Kurt stared blankly and the man bit his lip. 'The sign says you have a room - is it still available? It's too late for a hotel and to be honest I would have no idea where to find one anyway.'

Kurt's eyes followed his finger and sure enough it pointed to the faded neon blue sign above the Hummel front door. _Bed & Breakfast - Room Vacant._ 'Oh, uh, yeah.' Kurt cleared his throat and half-hid himself behind the door frame, more than a little upset that this gorgeous stranger was seeing him in oversized patchy bedclothes. 'It's still empty.' He confirmed, but he shook his head. Burt always insisted before leaving for Washington that Kurt take down the sign. Renting out a room for a couple of days each month was good for making a few easy bucks, but it was Burt's business which only happened when the older man was home. After all, Kurt was still technically a teenager and therefore considered too young to be left alone with random people passing through this rural Ohio land. The stranger looked at him in question. 'I'm sorry,' Kurt said, bowing his head. 'I'm afraid I can't open it up without my dad here. He takes care of that stuff.'

The man took a moment to think. 'Your dad? May I ask where he is? Will he be back tonight?' He glanced at his watch as if clarifying it was indeed late.

'He's...out of town.' Kurt found himself supplying before he thought it through. He kicked himself for it, but figured this guy didn't seem dangerous so there was no harm done. 'He won't be back for a few days. I could give you directions to Lima, though. There are hotels there.'

The man's teeth began chattering and he dug his hands deep within his pockets. 'Lima... That's so far.' He took a step closer to Kurt but it wasn't in a threatening manner. Kurt was admittedly intrigued. 'Please, I'm cold and tired. I'd sleep in my car but I think I'd freeze. I only pulled off the road because I started to swerve and I saw your house. I'll pay you triple for the night - up front, of course.' Kurt's heartstrings were tugged at the pleading tone knowing he would have to decline. But then again, why should he? Those big eyes really were so puppy dog-like, from the way they made Kurt's insides melt. Burt wasn't going to be back until the end of the week, at the earliest. And who was Kurt to turn away a poor, cold, tired and lost traveller? Smiling shyly in return, Kurt gained a hopeful grin from the stranger. 'Is that a yes?'

'It's a 'get in before I change my mind'.' Kurt felt giddy holding the door open for him.

The man hurried into the hallway, carrying an old fashioned tan leather suitcase in his hand. 'Yessir.' Kurt turned on the light for him and then proceeded to close the door. 'Jesus, it's cold outside.'

'It's cold in here, too,' Kurt commented in a regretful manner. 'I'm sorry; I wasn't expecting anyone otherwise I'd have kept the radiators running.'

'Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I got you out of bed and all...'

The man did indeed look guilty but for some reason Kurt forgot he had ever been angry about being woken up. Something about the stranger just lifted his spirits and captured his awe and attention. 'It's no problem.' Kurt responded honestly. 'I'm Kurt by the way.'

'Kurt,' The man smiled and held out his hand to shake. 'I'm Blaine, and very grateful for your hospitality.'

They both laughed a little and Kurt felt himself get a little light-headed. This man - Blaine - was grateful for him. It seemed like a pathetic girl-crush type of happiness but, at this point in the evening and after months of zero excitement in his life, Kurt did not care. He just enjoyed the way Blaine's eyes focused on his and the expectant smile which was aimed right at him. Wait... Suddenly feeling very self-conscious at his own stupidity, Kurt stammered 'I'm sorry, you're tired and cold - let me take you to the room.' He started up the stairs but stopped half way when he didn't hear Blaine follow after him. He turned and saw the young man still standing in the same place, now looking a little awkward. 'Are you okay?'

The man offered another grin before asking 'Don't you want me to...sign in or something?' Heart plummeting at his own carelessness, Kurt blushed furiously. He dashed back down the stairs and made for the hallway drawer where his father kept the books relating to room letting. Blaine chuckled. 'You really don't have much to do with this side of things, do you?' Kurt still radiated embarrassment but he at least appreciated the kind teasing tone. It made him feel less judged in a weird way.

'You could say that.' Kurt fished through the pages of the record book to the next blank page. He laid it out on the drawer surface and offered his father's prized writing pen for him to take. 'Just fill out your information here, and we can worry about money tomorrow.' _When I have had time to work out how much I should ask for..._

Blaine took the pen and started to fill the page. Kurt stood awkwardly until he finished, discreetly admiring the stranger's fine toned legs and jean-clad rear. For a horrifying moment when Blaine was still leaning over the book, Kurt thought the older boy had noticed his staring but when nothing was said Kurt assured himself that he got lucky. He averted his eyes until he heard the pen click closed and Blaine stood up straight once more. 'Lead the way,' Blaine grinned, motioning to the stairs.

And Kurt did just that. He hurried ahead of Blaine so he could check the room was still clean and comfortable, and was just turning on the radiators when Blaine entered behind him. 'It'll take about ten minutes for the pipes to heat up.' Kurt explained, awkwardly sidestepping into the hallway again in case his presence was now unnecessary. 'The blankets are thick, though, and there are some extra pyjamas, towels and a robe in your bathroom - just through that door over there - if you need them.' Blaine was examining the room and en suite with a pleased expression. He hummed gently in understanding. 'I'll, uh, see you in the morning?' Blaine turned to look at him, eyes soft and interested. Kurt repeatedly tried to turn away and close the door but he kept hesitating. Finally he blurted out 'There's a fire downstairs. If you wanted to heat yourself up, I'll start it. I can make you something to eat too.'

Blaine sat down on the edge of the bed and arched a brow. 'That's all very kind of you, but surely you're tired. I woke you up, after all.'

Kurt shook his head a little more than was needed. 'I'm a night owl.' He lied. 'I don't mind.' It was then he realised that perhaps Blaine was just being polite and did in fact want him to go away. He swallowed hard and hoped he could leave with some dignity.

Blaine, however, suddenly became playfully coy. 'I'd hate to keep you awake but...if you were staying up and didn't mind having some company...'

Kurt grinned. 'I'll go start the fire.' 

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><p>When ten minutes had passed with his visitor still a no-show, Kurt worried that maybe he had indeed been over eager and scared Blaine into staying in his room. Or perhaps Blaine really was exhausted and had fallen asleep by accident after Kurt left him? Kurt was ready and willing to use that as an excuse as he prodded the kindling in the fireplace. The flames licked at his iron stick, letting itself be stoked into more life.<p>

'I didn't know there were any more homes with these kinds of fireplaces,'

Kurt jumped at Blaine's voice from the living room doorway. The young man had changed into a light coloured dress shirt with the top buttons left undone, and carried a high neck sweater over his arm. In the light of the fire, his skin glowed. His eyes were shiny and black - a far cry from the deep hazel Kurt knew him to really have - yet were still remarkably beautiful. Kurt brushed off some stray ashes from his pants, stood up and motioned for Blaine to take a seat in one of the two armchairs pulled close to the flames. 'It's my dad's pride and joy.' Kurt explained. 'Even though it would be better for his work to move somewhere closer to town, he says he'd never find a house with such character again.'

Blaine graciously took a seat and hummed. 'That, I understand. This is a beautiful house. Did you grow up here?' Kurt nodded. 'I gotta say I'm a little jealous.'

Kurt laughed and waved his comment off before turning towards the kitchen. 'I'm sorry to tell you my confidence in fixing you something to eat might have been a little premature. I'm afraid all I have to offer you right now are sandwiches, chicken or snack noodles.'

'Really, Kurt, it's not a problem.' Blaine insisted, giving a small smile. 'I'm warm and I have a bed to go to.'

'I insist on feeding you something.' Kurt hung by the doorway with most of his frame hidden from Blaine's view, finding these moments of shyness to be very out of character of himself.

Blaine was watching him with quiet interest, his eyes almost beckoning Kurt back to him. 'Well, if I can convince you to eat with me, I guess a sandwich would be pretty good.'

Kurt gave one firm nod and disappeared. As it turned out, a lack of confidence in his sandwich making skills led to him creating a tower of them with a side plate of heated-up chicken. He placed the late night meal on the coffee table by the fire along with a pitcher of water, a can of soda and few bottles of his father's favourite beer. At Blaine's gaze, Kurt gave a small unsure shrug. 'I didn't know what you'd like to drink...'

Blaine laughed and gratefully cracked open a bottle of beer. 'You are quite the host, Kurt.' He sipped the beer and let out a happy sigh. 'Ahh, this was long overdue...' He offered another bottle to Kurt, who politely shook his head. Blaine arched a brow. 'Not a drinker?' He asked, before grinning. 'Or is it because you're a little young for it?'

'I'm nineteen.' Kurt found himself blurting out with no idea why, earning a chuckle from the other male. 'I just don't like beer very much... It gives me headache. Although,' He looked at his watch and found that it was a little after two thirty. There was no way he'd be up in time for his first class in Lima the next day unless he went to bed that instant. That thought in mind, he sat back in his chair and enjoyed being the object of Blaine's amusement. 'What the hell, I'm not going anywhere tomorrow.' He knowingly took the beer to look better in the eyes of his guest. Oddly enough he didn't criticize himself for it.

'No?'

Kurt shrugged, taking a gulp of the beer and discovered that - shocker! - it still tasted horrible. 'I go to college but one day off won't hurt.'

Blaine tilted his head and considered him. 'I hope you aren't ditching on my account. What do you study?'

'Musical theatre,' Kurt replied. 'Although it's a community college course with little-to-no funding so I doubt I'll miss anything important.' Seeing Blaine's eyes light up, Kurt felt a surge of pride. 'And before you ask, yes, that does mean acting, singing and dancing. I can't speak much on my acting, and my dancing is atrocious, but I am a damn good singer.' He finished, putting himself out as more cocky than he really was. From the looks of it, Blaine liked it.

'I don't doubt that's true.' Blaine sat forward in his seat and stole a sandwich from the top of the tower. 'Do you think you'd give me a private performance? I can ask nicely.' Something in his voice - so low and clouded with suggestiveness - caused Kurt to draw himself back in and he shook his head with his smile unwavering. 'Oh, c'mon.' Blaine teased, his fingers reaching over to lightly brush against Kurt's knees. A shiver ran through the length of the teenager's body. 'Don't hide it from me.'

Kurt shook his head again and bashfully took a sandwich for himself. 'No way. All I'll say is that I sing circles round my classmates. Maybe in the morning...'

Blaine looked like he might push for a song now, but after a few moments he leaned back in defeat. 'Well, if you are as good as you say, you should be in one of those dramatic acts schools. In L.A., or New York-'

'I was accepted into NYADA. Y'know, New York Academy of Dramatic Arts.' Kurt broke in. He steeled himself; why was he acting like this? Was he really so desperate to impress this late-night customer? He guessed the bright fire and food display was answer enough. He coughed. 'B-But I didn't accept. Maybe one day, though.'

Blaine frowned, somehow still managing to look captivating with such a troubled look. 'NYADA - sounds like a pretty big deal. Why did you pass it up?' He paused, and then added 'If you don't mind my asking...'

Kurt gave a meaningless shrug. 'It'll always be there,' He offered, 'If I got accepted once, I'm sure I could be accepted again. My dad was pretty sick the year before I graduated. I thought by the time I'd have to leave for college I'd be able to leave him here but...it was too hard. I ended up declining my offers and managed to get into the community college program in town.' Many seconds passed with the only sound breaking the silence being the occasional crackling of the fire. Blaine was watching him carefully, and Kurt felt a little foolish sharing so much. Now this guy knew about his dad's problems too, and Kurt's unfulfilled aspirations and let-downs. It made him feel too uncomfortable. 'So, uh, what about you? How long were you driving before you stopped here?'

Blaine took a moment to bring himself out of whatever deep thought he appeared to be in, and he muttered 'Let's see, taking out the twenty minutes around noon when I stopped to eat and the odd five minutes to fill up on gas, I'd say about fifteen hours.' Kurt coughed on his beer. Blaine smiled. 'Now you understand why I was desperate for somewhere to stay.'

'But fifteen hours?' Kurt spluttered. 'What - where exactly were you driving from? Where are you going?'

Blaine's smile didn't move but his eyes squinted as if he was holding something back. 'I was coming from the east.' He said slowly. 'And as of where I'm going...nowhere in particular. I'm just heading in a direction. And that direction seems to be west.' Kurt stared at him. What kind of answer was that? Sure, perhaps Kurt over-shared with his information but that was no reason to be as secretive as that. He was 'coming from the east'...the east of Ohio? He couldn't have been driving fifteen hours from the east in Ohio alone. Did he mean the east of the U.S.? East of the world? Had he been travelling more than one day? And then, of course, was the ridiculous suggestion that he was driving fifteen hours with no real destination, only heading 'west'. Blaine seemed to notice Kurt's lack of satisfaction with his answer, and he laughed as he took another sandwich. 'Sorry. Not as interesting as you would have liked, right?'

'More like not as specific as I'd have liked.' Kurt admitted in a deflated tone. 'Don't you have a home? Which part of the states are you from?'

Again, to Kurt's amazement, Blaine hesitated. 'Home...is wherever I happen to feel happy. Like right now, I feel happy here.' He motioned towards the living room walls and the upstairs area. 'As of right now, this is my 'home'. But tomorrow?' He sniggered to himself. 'Who knows?' Kurt shook his head, feeling like Blaine was playing with him. Like a child - something he had trying to avoid resembling - he kicked himself back in his chair and gave Blaine a half-hearted glare. Blaine laughed again and downed his beer. Putting the empty bottle on the table with a loud clinking sound, he continued 'Sorry I can't be more informative.'

Something in his eyes told Kurt there was a great deal more behind his secretiveness than a simple I-like-my-matters-kept-private-so-mind-your-own-business excuse. He could be in trouble with the law, Kurt realised. Perhaps he should have just left him outside with his dad not around to go through any safety checks. Kurt mentally shook his head. Blaine was a secretive guy, sure, but also a friendly one. And there was no way he could have turned him away especially if Blaine had shared that he had been driving for fifteen hours. The thought itself broke Kurt out of his stubborn sulking and he cleared his throat before clearing the table. 'Sorry, I pry when I'm tired.' He gave as an excuse. 'And I bet you'll be exhausted too. I shouldn't keep you up any later.'

Blaine just watched him, but as Kurt moved to carry the plates and beverages back to the kitchen the young man reached up and gently grasped his arm. Kurt looked down at him, startled. 'Please, Kurt,' Blaine started in a quiet and apologetic voice. 'Don't be offended. I don't really like talking about my life because it depresses anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot of it, and that includes me.' He smiled, and Kurt felt his heart beat faster again. 'Let's just say this past hour since I met you has been a highlight of mine.'

Feeling more flattered than he had felt in a very, very long time, Kurt nodded and inwardly acknowledged some type of forgiveness for Blaine. 'For a late night stranger who got me out of bed, you aren't so bad either.' Blaine seemed to find his response amusing and his hold on Kurt's arm did not leave until the younger boy moved off to the kitchen. 'Goodnight,'

'Sleep tight, Kurt.' Kurt heard Blaine call behind him. The words caused pleasant shivers to run up and down his spine even as he scrubbed the dishes clean and set them on the drying board. When he returned to the living room, Kurt found that the fire had been put out and Blaine was gone. 

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><p>With his self-granted 'day off' from college, Kurt took advantage of the late-morning market a few miles from his house. He guessed his guest would be out for the count after his previous day's drive but, just in case, Kurt left a note explaining he would be back around noon armed with breakfast-worthy ingredients. Upon his return, Kurt saw Blaine's car - a black Mustang with leather interior - was still parked in the same spot Kurt had first inspected it that morning. Kurt gave an inward sigh of relief. Part of him did wonder if Blaine would sneak off without paying but it was less to do with the subject of money and more to do with the fact Kurt was shamefully intrigued by him and wanted to see him again.<p>

The house was quiet as he entered. Kurt paused in the hallway and listened but there was no sound of movement, leading him to believe Blaine was indeed still asleep. If it wasn't such an intrusion of privacy, Kurt might have snuck a look in the young man's bedroom. But Kurt was a respectful person and he forced himself to the kitchen to start on the eggs.

As the bacon sizzled and the pancakes browned, Kurt laid the table for two. When he leaned over the surface he realised that if the smell of the food didn't attract Blaine's attention then he might have to go wake him up. That would be rude; Kurt bit his lip whilst thinking. Fortunately, though, a low whistle from behind him suggested he needn't have worried. Kurt turned to face the older man who was leaning against the doorway with hair mussed up and curling slightly. During the night it seemed Blaine had lost his shirt and now just stood in some dark slacks. Kurt took a sharp intake of air at the sight of Blaine's bare chest, and he held his breath to stop an audible gasp from escaping. The young man's skin was fairly tanned and his body quietly muscular. Kurt had gone to great lengths that morning to put together an outfit which might match Blaine's natural appearance somewhat in terms of being eye-catching – a deep navy blue shirt and a pair of black pants which accented his legs perfectly - but it seemed that he was beaten by Blaine's simple partial nakedness. That wasn't fair. Especially since the sight alone caused Kurt to momentarily forget how to speak. If his dad knew his gay adolescent son was alone with a half naked stranger in their home unsupervised... It didn't do well to dwell on such circumstances. 'Morning.' Kurt finally stuttered.

Blaine's eyes were wandering down Kurt's legs and back up to stare at him, a small smirk playing on his lips. 'Morning? It's gotta be afternoon.' Kurt felt his cheeks heat up and he nodded at his own mistake. Blaine folded his arms and took a few steps forward. 'I'm sorry to disturb you in the middle of cooking...' He glanced at the table and the two place settings, 'But the aroma was just too much. Could I help you, and earn myself a plate?'

'Have a seat.' Kurt ushered him towards the table. 'I was about to come get you; your brunch is ready. I can't cook this kind of stuff with my dad around because of his cholesterol levels so this is a good opportunity to treat myself.'

Blaine took a seat and whipped his napkin expertly onto his lap. Kurt couldn't stop himself from wishing he were that napkin but he _could_ stop himself from continuing down that trail of thought by accidently burning himself on the frying pan. 'Careful - you don't want to get any oil on your clothes.' Blaine warned, although it seemed like just an excuse to go on watching Kurt. The younger boy did not mind the attention at all.

'Trust me; I'm always careful when it comes to my clothes.' Kurt responded, 'I know it might not have seemed the case last night but normally I'm always impeccably dressed. You caught me at a weak moment.' He carried a couple of plates of food to the table and sat down opposite Blaine. 'Forever vain, wanting to look good.'

'Oh, I don't know...' Blaine picked up his fork and stabbed a piece of sausage. Kurt looked up at him, and the older boy's lips turned up suggestively. 'I don't think you'd need clothes to look good.'

Kurt could not tear his eyes from Blaine's even though his blazing hot cheeks demanded it. Blaine's tongue flicked out and lightly licked the back of his fork. When he had enjoyed Kurt's bashfulness long enough, he broke their eye contact and thus freed Kurt to look down at his own plate in confusion. Was Blaine flirting with him? He hadn't last night. Not from what Kurt could tell, anyway. Was he just...horny after waking up? Was that the reason? Kurt tried not to get ahead of himself and decided just to eat. 'So, uh, when do you think you'll set off again to...wherever it is your going?'

Blaine hummed to himself, considering the question with a surprising lack of care. Finally he caught Kurt's eye again. 'I was wondering...' He started in a low drawl which drew Kurt in. 'Would you object to me staying another night?' Kurt looked at him in surprise. Why would he want to stay? 'You see, I wasn't just being difficult last night. I really have no real destination in mind, and I like it here. I like talking to you.' He grinned. 'I like that you keep me well fed.'

Kurt swallowed, unsure how to feel. His dad was already going to kill him if he found out he let Blaine stay one night so, with the damage already done, there was little reason to deny him another. But was it a good idea? 'I don't think a few sandwiches and a fry-up corresponds to keeping you 'well fed'...' Blaine tilted his head and patiently waited. 'But...I guess if you want to-'

'I do.' Blaine cut in, happily taking another bite as he buttered a slice of toast. 'I really do. Thank you, Kurt. I've put what I owe you so far in here,' He gently tossed over an envelope. Kurt opened it up to find a wad of bills inside. 'I think it should cover it.'

'It's too much.' Kurt said, counting over three hundred dollars. _'Way_ too much. Here,' He tried to pass it back but Blaine waved his hand away. 'One night is about fifty dollars - please, take it back.'

Blaine shook his head as he smiled. 'Kurt, I told you I'd pay triple for the room. Then there's the food and drink-'

'We don't charge for that!' Kurt insisted. At least, that's what he figured. Blaine refused to take the money so eventually Kurt laid it back on the table next to him. 'Fine.' He huffed. 'But unless you break something expensive I _will_ find a way to give you the extra back.' Blaine shrugged and Kurt knew he didn't believe him.

At last, his generous guest finished eating and stretched. 'So if you have no plans for today - what's say you let me have a quick shower and then you can show me around the area?' Kurt's whole face picked up; he couldn't think of any better way to spend his day off. 

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><p>Kurt had not visited Faurot Park since he had made the decision to reject NYADA's offer. Honestly, he just could not face it. There had been times during his final years at high school when he and Rachel Berry would wander the beautiful site, sitting under trees and spreading out plan after plan of what they would do in New York after being accepted into the exclusive college, and spending hours lying on the grass gushing over all the things they would do together after becoming rich and famous post-graduation. Now, with Rachel in New York pursuing such dreams with a very good chance of achieving them, Kurt generally avoided the park, and in turn the memories of dreams lost.<p>

But when Blaine expressed an interest in seeing the beauty such an outdoor space had, Kurt agreed to go. Perhaps he could replace the bitter taste of failure with his spontaneous puppy love? A flawless blanket of snow graced the ground and covered up all pathways and signposts, so Kurt proudly took the lead in guiding them around.

'Kurt, you should have told me you don't like coming here,' Blaine gently berated them after hearing why it had been so long since his guide's last visit. 'I wouldn't have even suggested it if I'd known-'

Kurt playfully shoved him. 'Don't be stupid. It's not that I don't like coming here.' _Okay, it is, but I won't admit it out loud_. 'I just...never got round to it. I have good memories here too. Ones I like remembering.'

Blaine had stumbled a little at the shove but when he moved back he had taken the opportunity to be closer to Kurt than before – something which did not go unnoticed by the teen, who could almost feel the sexual heat off of the man that only an hour before had been half naked eating in his kitchen. _Stop thinking like that, idiot!_ Blaine nudged him with his shoulder and his eyes flashed. 'Oh? Don't tell me you have some naughty memories of fooling around on a grassy hilltop,' He teased.

Kurt flushed darkly and laughed 'D-don't be ridiculous, I never... Um,' He tried to bypass the subject by focusing on something else. 'What I meant was that I remember my dad telling me he took my mom on their very first date here. He held her hand for the first time up near the pavilion. And over there-' He pointed up the concealed path to a small bridge going over a half-frozen pool of water. 'was where they kissed for the first time.' Kurt smiled warmly as though he could see it, despite it only being a retelling by his father. Blaine looked away from the bridge and straight to him. It took a while for Kurt to notice the smirk on the other's face but when he did he suddenly felt very self conscious. Had he been over-sharing once again? 'Wh-what? What are you smiling at?' He stammered out.

'You.' Blaine replied simply, his voice low. Kurt paused in his walk but Blaine continued on with a humorous glint in his eye. They walked for a while until snow began to fall again. They took cover under the pavilion until Kurt decided to go find them some hot drinks to warm them up. Upon his return, Kurt spotted Blaine on his cell phone sitting atop a picnic table. Too far away to even see his mouth move, Kurt wondered who he was talking to and why he looked so deadly serious staring him straight in the eye. _If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was a different person. _When Kurt finally approached, Blaine finished up his call, shifted his expression back to 'friendly', and struck up a new conversation before Kurt could question him. The strangeness (if you could even call it that) was soon forgotten as they continued walking by the more wooded areas of the park. Kurt admired the delicate way the tree branches were decorated by white and the cold chill caused him to shiver. Blaine caught sight of him. 'Are you cold?'

Kurt shrugged. 'It's my own fault; I left my mitts in the car.' Immediately Blaine whipped off his gloves. 'No, Blaine, I wasn't meaning-' But instead of simply giving his gloves away, he tucked them under his arm and grasped Kurt's hands and brought them up to his mouth. Cupping his warm hands over Kurt's, Blaine blew hot air into Kurt's palms. Kurt softly tried to pull away to at least pretend he wasn't utterly thrilled but it was obvious he was blown away by the gesture. 'You don't have to do that,' He bit his lip as the insides of his hands became considerably less chilly.

Blaine then rubbed his skin and held his hands firmly, smiling all the while. 'Trust me, there are so many other things I could do to heat you up. I just thought this was more...appropriate for a family friendly place.' He laughed at Kurt's shocked expression and then slid both gloves onto his younger partner. 'You're very easily embarrassed, you know that? Luckily, you look cute with your pink nose and cheeks.' Kurt tried to shove him again playfully but Blaine caught his wrists and easily manoeuvred him under his arm.

Kurt thought he might burst with heart-pounding excitement. 

* * *

><p>That evening, Kurt was making a list of places they could go the following day. He knew he was getting too ahead of himself – after all, Blaine was just a house guest , though a very attractive and attentive house guest who had been more than a little flirtatious with him... – but having dreamed of spending all his days with a handsome man and going to couple-y places doing couple-y things he could be forgiven for wanting to take advantage of Blaine's presence. 'I was thinking we could go for breakfast at this really great place not far from the art gallery. And then, if you were interested, I could show you my old school. McKinley isn't much but-'<p>

Blaine had paused in his eating of Kurt's homemade spaghetti and meatballs to interrupt. 'Tomorrow? Don't you have class?'

'I can take another day off.'

Blaine put down his fork and shook his head. 'Kurt, I feel bad enough already for making you miss one day. Go tomorrow.' Kurt went to argue but Blaine expertly covered his mouth with his hand. 'Go. Besides, I have a few errands to run. I'll go into Lima and meet up with you after you're done.'

As put out as he possibly could be, Kurt huffed. Still, he prepared his messenger bag with his books and caught up on his homework so that the next morning he was ready to drop Blaine off in the centre of town before trudging into class. From then on, every second of every minute passed with agonizing delay. He performed numerous improvisations with his drama group, wrote out an A-grade paper on mime and tore the main hall with his exceptional dance moves and yet he still had another smattering of tedious hours to go. However, instead of moping over how under-appreciated he was or how unchallenged he felt in comparison to how he could feel in a place like NYADA, Kurt found himself focusing solely on reuniting with Blaine. It was odd how in a matter of a couple of days he could feel so attached to someone else. Perhaps it was due to spending practically every spare moment in the stranger's company since first meeting him, but there was clearly some allure that Kurt was not immune to. He thought to the night before when Blaine sat with him by the fire again just asking about Kurt. No one had ever shown any interest in him like that before. Not to mention the mysterious and downright irresistible manner in which he deflected any questions regarding himself which only made Kurt want to explore him more. And the way his eyes would rest on him after sultry-slow blinks caused Kurt serious cases of goosebumps. Every moment they were close enough to touch, Kurt found air harder to take in. Whenever Blaine brushed by he wanted to follow behind him. He even lay awake for over an hour just imagining the floorboards in the hall creaking as Blaine snuck to his bedroom for a spontaneous – and thoroughly over-fantasized – rendezvous. His mind thought up countless scenarios and each time Blaine appeared at the foot of his bed he seemed to have lost a new article of clothing until Kurt felt shameless enough to picture his guest bare-ass naked and peeling at his blankets using dirty words only found in those bad movies Kurt occasionally watched.

That morning, Kurt had to remind himself that Blaine was oblivious to his naughty thoughts in order to look him in the eye. But – _God!_ – how Kurt wanted to see the man again. His classes were getting very tiresome and he felt increasingly frustrated for being there instead of using every moment of Blaine's visit with him. Where was Blaine anyway? What errands did he have to run in Lima that would take all day?

'Mr Hummel – I trust that far off expression on your face is just a cover up for all the intense attention you are truly giving me?' barked Mr Matthews, the voice instructor who commandeered Kurt's final excruciating final hour of college.

Jolted back into the present, Kurt blinked and gave a pitiful 'Huh?'

Matthews looked less than impressed and put his hands on his very round hips. 'I thought as much. Very well, Kurt, I'll give you a chance to redeem yourself.' He jerked his thumb for his student to join him by the piano and the rest of the class winced in unison. Having a sudden solo thrust upon you was a thought that terrified them. However, Kurt had not spent years in Glee club just to be nervous in the spotlight. With a determined strut he took to the floor and flicked through the sheet music draped across the piano's surface. He plucked a song out and handed it to Matthew's. With a small 'Hmm', the teacher began playing.

Kurt smiled to himself. At last: a moment to bask in the haunting yet lustful notion in his stomach. He began to sing. '_Kiss me too fiercely. Hold me too tight. I need help believing you're with me tonight. My wildest dreams could not foresee lying beside you with you wanting me.'_ Kurt closed his eyes and a smile snuck up onto the corner of his mouth. In his mind's eye he was lying on his back on some phantom bed. On top of him, Blaine licked his lips as if Kurt was something he longed to devour. There was a dark glint in his territorial gaze and he growled possessive sentiments into his ear. '_And just for this moment, as long as you're mine, I've lost all resistance and crossed some borderline. And if it turns out it's over too fast...I'll make every last moment last._' Somewhere behind him, some piano key hit hard and Kurt had to bite back a wavering breath as the Blaine in his mind held him down and rocked his hips forward into him. He couldn't do this, not in front of his fellow arts pupils. Against his own desires to stay under the delicious firm body of his dream Blaine, Kurt forced his eyes open to reacquaint himself with the dull and tedious music hall. And in front of him, standing by the door several feet behind his classmates, was Blaine.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat and he missed his cue for the next part of the song. Matthews, ever the excellent musician, continued on to give Kurt a second chance and that thankfully allowed Kurt time to panic over how long Blaine had been watching him. Hazel eyes bore into him mercilessly, giving Kurt nowhere to hide nor the ability to turn away. Why did he choose such a song to sing? Why, in all the scenarios that had been possible, did Kurt have to be so involved in the words and imagery when he was on show to the one person who actually mattered? _Focus! _His mind screamed at him as Matthews played him in again. With some hidden willpower, Kurt tore his eyes from Blaine's intense gaze. '_Every moment, as long as you're mine, I'll wake up my body and make up for lost time. Say there's no future for us as a pair... And though I may know, I don't care.'_

With some miraculous feat, Kurt brought the song to a close and swallowed through the polite applause his class supplied. Matthews gave him some minimalist compliment, smiling proudly as he did so, and dismissed them. But suddenly Kurt was not ready to be dismissed. Feeling thoroughly embarrassed and at a loss for words, he took his time collecting his bag and coat. Blaine waited patiently at the door as everyone else filed out. When they were alone, Blaine kicked the door shut and leaned against it. 'All this time...' He murmured, shaking his head, 'you've been hiding a voice like that.'

It then occurred to Kurt that Blaine was, in fact, in awe. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he considered the teen carefully. 'I wasn't hiding it,' Kurt said in mock defiance to hide how timid he really felt. 'I told you the night you arrived that I could sing.'

'Well I consider it a crime you held out on me,' Blaine shot back just as fast. He smirked and pushed himself off the door to stride towards him. 'Tonight you'll have to make it up to me,' Kurt's mouth went dry and his heart pumped harder and faster as his mind raced, 'by singing whatever song I want you to sing.' Kurt was already blushing at the obvious _alternative_ route his brain took before Blaine's clarification but he managed to release a shrug of acceptance. Blaine's smirk widened. 

* * *

><p>'And you promise you won't tell your daddy on me?' Blaine snickered, bottle poised.<p>

Kurt slapped his arm. 'I'm not a kid; I can handle a little alcohol.' He tried to tip the bottle up and a few drops of honey liquid hit the sides of the shot glass beneath it.

Laughing, Blaine poured until the glass was just about overflowing. 'You're still a year and a half shy of the twenty-one mark so I'm just making sure you're not going to have me arrested.' He winked. 'I'm willing to bet a couple of these will be enough to get you drunk.'

Kurt slid the glass over to himself and raised it. 'And are you trying to get me drunk?' He teased. Blaine did not answer; he just smiled slyly as he poured himself a drink too. The lack of response drew shivers up Kurt's spine and he readily drank the shot whole like he had seen his peers do at house parties. The liquid seared his throat and he pulled a face. True to Blaine's testimony, the flavoured alcohol was sweet and very similar to caramel, but it was alcohol nonetheless. He coughed on his own inexperience.

Blaine had swallowed his allotment with ease and in fact only choked when he laughed at his host's reaction. He instantly poured Kurt a second drink and then set the bottle on the coffee table. His eyes dared Kurt to down it fast once more and Kurt, oddly unashamed at complying under pressure, did exactly as Blaine wanted. 'Impressive for a non drinker,' Blaine praised as Kurt shook his head in an effort to rid his throat of the foreign taste that had been so cool in his mouth and yet so hot in his stomach.

'You make me sound boring,' Kurt scrunched up his nose and leaned back on the floor. He had lay out some thick blankets to take the edge off the cold flooring by the fire. Blaine sat on the other side of the coffee table with his back against the mantel, the light coming only from the flames to his side.

Blaine admonished him with a wave of his hand. 'Trust me; the last thing you are is boring.' He sounded truthful. Then again, right after saying that he took another drink and Kurt gave in to a third.

There was something delightfully bad about sitting up with Blaine, drinking and letting his senses dampen and his inhibitions going with them. His home felt different somehow, no longer a place he and his father resided but instead a secret and private abode in which he could revel in Blaine's attention. He never did find out what Blaine did during the day in Lima – true to his apparent nature, Blaine revealed nothing – but they had spent the remainder of that day singing and playfully dancing. At each and every order, Kurt sung his heart out even when he didn't know the words. Blaine then insisted he revisit the performance from that afternoon at college – _As Long As You're Mine_ – only with Blaine joining in to complete the duet. No one had ever sung that song with him before. Why would they? Surely a song that strongly hints at some sort of sexual awakening such as that was not for someone like Kurt to share with anyone, and yet the way Blaine tenderly yet firmly gripped his arms and brought him in closer to stare deep into his eyes... Something had been woken up inside of Kurt from the moment he first saw him. Now, as Blaine chuckled to himself sprawled half across the blanket-clad floor, Kurt found himself becoming nervous of his own feelings and he climbed back onto the couch. Blaine caught his actions and rose up in question. 'Seriously, Blaine...' Kurt narrowed his eyes, pouting, 'what do you do?'

'Seriously, Kurt,' Blaine responded mirroring his words and tone. He then lowered his voice and leaned forward to murmur 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you.'

Kurt stared, the whispering words sounding far too enticing. Then a smile broke out on Blaine's face and he laughed. Kurt issued a tiny grin and nudged him with his foot. 'You're killing me already.' Blaine clambered up onto the couch with him and handed Kurt the bottle from the floor. Kurt poured them both another drink and moved to place the bottle on the coffee table but he misjudged the distance and accidently dropped it. He dove for it and managed to prevent a mass spillage, leaving the small puddle for future Kurt to clean.

Blaine snorted with laughter and lightly petted his arm. 'You alright there, beautiful?'

Kurt flourished him away whilst at the same time shifting a little closer on the sofa. He had meant for it to look discreet but understood immediately that it wasn't. Blaine didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, the older boy turned himself to better accommodate Kurt's closeness. 'If my dad knew you just called his son 'beautiful', he'd wring you by your neck.' Kurt advised, being both honest yet playful.

'Yeah? Well, daddy isn't here, is he?' Blaine wriggled his eyebrows and took Kurt by the upper arms, pulling him closer. Kurt tensed up for all of two seconds before melting into Blaine's side. The other man was so firm and warm, and he smelled simply delicious. Like burnt coconuts mixed with rich sweetness. In a sober state, Kurt would have felt immensely inadequate - even pathetic - in comparison but thankfully the alcohol had taken the worst of his insecurities away. Still, he shyly hid his smile when Blaine's fingers lazily ran through his hair and across the shell of his ear. It tickled, and he bit back his laughter as his shoulders jumped up. Blaine's low chuckle ghosted through the air and his strong hands gently prized Kurt's closed up form open again, manhandling him until he was facing him. 'What else would daddy not like me to do, Kurt?'

Kurt licked his lips and avoided eye contact. His heart was pounding in the most exciting manner - he had never felt this charged before - and he wasn't sure how to maintain what was left of his calm exterior. 'He probably wouldn't like you to call him 'daddy', for one thing.' His response caused Blaine to laugh out loud. Kurt grinned like a fool when he was pulled in further. Unless it was his imagination in the semi-darkness, Kurt was sure his own crotch was now pressing into Blaine's leg. The leg slipped up an inch and sent a warm wave of pleasure through his nerves.

'Would he also not like me to take advantage of his absence?' Blaine's lips were so much closer now; Kurt could feel the inviting warmth of his breath on his skin. The flames of the fire caused the green flecks in Blaine's eyes to glow emerald which Kurt was only now able to admire properly with them staring right at him just inches away. He forgot to respond to the question, too wrapped up in the number of possibilities which now lay in front of them. So many were desirable but at that very moment all Kurt wanted was for those smooth dark lips to be capturing his own. Why wasn't Blaine just giving him what he wants, already? 'Hmm? Kurt?'

'Huh?' Kurt responded, dumb.

Quietly chuckling, Blaine took Kurt's wrists. 'I said...would daddy not like me to take advantage of his absence? Take advantage of his son when he's not here to stop it?' The leg Kurt was straddling moved again and the only response Kurt could give came in the form of a soft pleading moan. With a triumphant smirk, Blaine did not hold out on him any longer; he gripped Kurt's wrists tight and pulled them together until their lips crashed and merged in a mesmerizing show of gasping, panting and tongue.

If Blaine smelled amazing, it was nothing compared to how he tasted. In his dizzy state of mind, Kurt would have been ready to believe he was in fact drunk on the sweet mouth currently dominating his. The soft yet demanding lips forced open Kurt's mouth so they were heavily breathing into one another. Teeth scraped on his bottom lip and a hand snaked up his back to grab at his chestnut locks so Blaine could expose the teen's neck for his appraisal. Kurt's eyes fluttered shut and he swallowed with a shudder at feeling Blaine kiss down his throat to his collar bone. In the dead of winter and with only the fire for warmth, Kurt was well and truly ablaze and sweat was forming underneath his now-clammy clothes. Never before had he hated an outfit more than that moment. Blaine seemed to agree. He growled as Kurt whimpered, hands coming forward to drag his nails down his shirt front. With talented aggression, Blaine managed to unbutton his shirt with deft flicks of his fingers. 'Kurt,' He murmured against the cream white skin now available to him. 'Tell me to stop.'

Kurt shook his head. 'No...'

Blaine threw him back onto the couch, causing the world to spin round, and then straddled the younger man fast. 'Tell me,' he repeated, whipping off the shirt and pinning Kurt down by the shoulders. 'to stop.'

'No-' Kurt whined, his hands reaching for Blaine but the man kept himself just out of reach. 'I-I don't want you to stop.' He mewed when he raised his hips up to meet Blaine's and was beyond delighted when he saw the raven haired Adonis lose his breath at the unexpected and incredible electricity of pleasure which shot through them both.

Growling with eager want, Blaine tossed off his own sweater to reveal his bare chest and then tore open the fly of his jeans. Kurt watched in frightened awe. _No underwear..._ Blaine then stopped. He towered over Kurt, kneeling up and away from him with his eyes boring down; encouraging him to do something. Kurt's gaze fell to the darkened patch below Blaine's navel. Delicate dark curls led a small yet glorious trail southwards towards a growing bulge still concealed by denim. A shaking hand lifted to lightly stroke the bulge and Blaine responded by letting his head fall back and a long torturous moan escape his throat. Kurt, now feeling braver, carefully pulled at the jeans and let his hand delve inside. His fingers curled around a hard and impressive length that somehow caused his own dick to swell in desire. He shuffled more upright, leaning back on an elbow, and desperately shimmied Blaine's pants down until all was revealed. In the crackling glow of firelight, Blaine's member was truly mouthwatering. Kurt gulped and then, without sparing a thought, wrapped his lips around the head.

'O-oh _fuck!_' Blaine gasped and clutched onto the back of the couch for support. Kurt lapped and sucked eagerly, though his fingers slipped amateurishly and betrayed his lack of experience. It didn't seem to bother Blaine in the slightest; his hips began rocking forward and a tight fist gripped Kurt's hair to coax his dick further down Kurt's throat. 'K-Kurt, you are s-so...' He didn't finish. Still starry-eyed and blown away by the strangely wonderful notion of this new activity, Kurt hoped he was doing well. Yet more than that he hoped that he wouldn't have to wait long until the member filling up his mouth would be filling him up in a more pleasurable place.

Blaine did not keep him waiting.

With an animalistic grunt, Blaine finally pulled Kurt's lips off him and gripped his forearms. Dazed and seeing pretty stars in his vision, Kurt found himself be carefully lifted from the couch to the surprising comfort of the blanket by the fireplace. The flames were so close but his skin merely flushed with the intensifying heat. He let out a groan as his swollen dick dragged across the soft sheets and his instinct was to thrust his rear up for Blaine's rapid attention. 'Please, Blaine,' He bit down on himself, begging for his touch. 'I-I'm ready-'

'You're not.' Blaine had managed to get better hold of himself again and was gently caressing him with shocking self-control. He whispered Kurt into quietness as he wet the younger boy's willing hole and lightly fingered himself inside. Kurt was indeed not ready at all; he squealed at the foreign intrusion and relied on Blaine's steady voice to accept it. Sleek slide in, fingers parting to better stretch the boy out, and then slow retraction: Kurt felt like crying as the transition from 'anxiousness' to 'I need more _now!_' occurred without his noticing it. All he knew was he was soon cursing Blaine out loud for not giving him what he wanted. Thankfully Blaine did not take the criticism well and punished him with a hard slap to his ass with the hand that was currently _not_ deep inside him. Kurt gasped as his breath caught in his throat and his knees fell to the wayside as the fingers were suddenly removed without warning. Hips were grabbed. Kurt found his body being yanked backwards until he was on all fours. He did not know what was happening in the confusing whirlwind of action until he felt the head of Blaine's dripping member kiss his awaiting asshole.

Biting his lip in severe anticipation, Kurt forgot himself and pushed with all his might back on the dick. Blaine's nails dug into him at the same time as he felt something slick and hard slide inside. An overwhelming stinging sensation almost made Kurt scramble forwards away from the pain but Blaine held him in place.

'Ahh, Kurt-' The dark haired man cried out as the teen panted silently against the blankets. It was clear from his thick and gruff tone he wanted nothing more than to pummel into him – but his self restraint made him angelic. He pulled out most of the way and then eased back in until he could feel Kurt resist him. 'Relax, baby,' he soothed whilst his palms rubbed circles over his thighs. 'You can take more. I know you can.'

It might have been the lustful tone or seductive lowering of his voice, or even the simple fact Blaine was letting him have an element of control, that spurred Kurt on past the pain. Repeatedly he slid back and waited for the alien sensation of having a dick inside of him wear off. The tip of his own member continued to graze the sheets causing shivers of goodness through him, masking the badness from before. It was all beginning to feel good again. Really good. So good that Kurt soon found his hips slamming back and forward just pleading for the powerful surges of blinding pleasure to never ever stop. Blaine did not need a second hint.

The slapping sounds of skin hitting skin could not compete with the euphoric screaming. Kurt tried to keep up with the thrusts but to his utter delight Blaine just kept speeding up and jutting in from new and exploding angles so he could do nothing more than collapse onto the floor and spread his legs open as wide as he could from his position and just let his body be dominated to delirious heights. Blaine took notice when the smaller man released a strangled sound as he approached his peak. Wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist, he hoisted him up and then dropped him back on his cock. Gravity did the rest. Kurt slid all the way onto him and instantly every muscle locked and spasmed as his world fell away and pure ecstasy was all he knew. Right behind him, still clasping onto his frame to keep Kurt pert on top of his own hips, Blaine felt surreal tightness surround him and seconds later Kurt's euphoric sensations were joined by the heat of hot come filling his ass.

They each rode out their orgasms until at last they both buckled and fell back on the covers beneath them. For several long minutes they lay entangled in one another with the room spinning around them. Kurt was trying to get used to the coming back down to earth notion, but the blow was softened as strong arms pulled him in close. Blaine buried his face in Kurt's neck and left generous kisses against his throat. Feeling like nothing could ever be more perfect in life than that moment, Kurt lazily dragged the blanket around their bodies and snuggled into man who, quite possibly, he had just fallen in love with. 

* * *

><p>'<em>The Morning After<em>': when Kurt had thought of that expression would think of the words 'embarrassing', 'shameful' and 'bitter' – after all, that's what television often portrays it as. However, waking up in Blaine's arms with his lover's lips still resting on his shoulder made Kurt want to cry for all the right reasons. In childlike interest, Kurt's fingers lightly explored the slumbering man as he patiently waited for Blaine to rouse himself. However, Kurt was surprised to turn back up to look at Blaine's face and find a smug smile under his still-closed eyes.

'How long have you been awake?' Kurt blushed, pulling his fingers back from his bare chest.

Blaine's eyes fluttered open and he reached to bring Kurt's hands back onto him. 'Keep going.' He murmured. 'I felt you stirring earlier. Thought I'd just let you...do what you do when you typically wake up.'

Kurt nudged himself closer and lay back beside him. He offered a timid grin. 'Typically I don't have someone else in bed with me when I wake up,' He admitted. 'This is a first.'

'I hope it isn't the last, either.' Blaine rolled over and captured his mouth in a sweet kiss.

The kiss was so enjoyable that it took Kurt a few seconds to remember the bad news. 'My dad,' He started, suddenly downtrodden, 'He's back tomorrow. He's going to hit the roof when he finds out I had someone here. _You_ here.' Kurt met Blaine's eyes and offered a shrug. 'My dad's a smart guy: one look at the gorgeous stranger along with my guilty face and he'll know.'

'Let me take care of your dad.' Blaine assured him. Initially, Kurt did not think anything of the ridiculous statement – but then he narrowed his eyes. Why did Blaine sound so confident? He couldn't seriously think he's be able to survive the wrath of a teenager's father, could he? Before he could be called out on it, Blaine yawned 'Let's just enjoy today. Just...after I shower.'

A snort of laughter brought Kurt up onto his knees. 'Not before me. That way you have to clean up the mess in here.' Before Blaine could grab him, the nineteen year old ran his naked ass out of the room and up the stairs towards the main bathroom.

'But...I'm the house guest!' Blaine called up, sounding affronted. 

* * *

><p>Humming to himself, Kurt waltzed down the second floor hallway to Blaine's bedroom. Despite having his own en suite, the older man was currently in Kurt's shower room as it was, as Kurt put it, fully equipped with everything Blaine could need. In Kurt's arms he had a small collection of Blaine's washed clothes as well as fresh towels. <em>Just because he fucked me doesn't mean I should slip on the housekeeping duties<em>. The thought made Kurt laugh. To think it had only been a few days since Blaine first arrived: Kurt felt like he had known him longer, which was saying something considering Blaine had not once indulged one piece of information regarding his life. He guessed he felt more connected to his personality and tantalizing appearance rather than focusing on some recounted history. Hell, last night he even fell asleep thinking he had fallen in love! Had he? Kurt had never been in love before. He had only experienced crushes on celebrities and secret obsessions with a few boys he went to school with – but this thing with Blaine was different. Blaine was special.

Blaine also kept his room exceptionally tidy, though it was hardly surprising as he was barely in there. Looking around for a spot on the dresser to place the clean clothes, his elbow accidently nudged the suitcase that was sitting by the bed. The case tipped over and numerous papers and items escaped out the unzipped flap. _Dammit, Kurt – way to be a clumsy idiot!_ He immediately got to his knees and scrambled to collect together all the bits and pieces and stuffed them back into the case. At least, that is what he did until he spotted his own name on one of the many official-looking papers. He froze: a photo of himself toppled out from behind the stack. It was Kurt's college photo that was taken on his first day for his student I.D. _How could Blaine have this?_ Mystified, Kurt gave a brief shake of his head and hesitantly reached for the other documents.

_Name: Kurt Elizabeth Hummel_

_Date of Birth: May 27 1993_

_Height: 5"9_

_Occupation: Student_

Was this...a profile on him? Other information printed included the addresses of his house, his college and Burt's car shop, as well as a summarized schedule of Kurt's basic week along with a brief physical description of the boy himself. It also listed, under a section entitled '_Frequent Locations'_, an array of places in Lima that Kurt often went to: _Lima Public Library, Lima Bean (Cafe), Charlie's Records (Store), Edgewood Roller Skating Arena (with company)._

Kurt threw it down. What was this?! Had someone been watching him? Why did Blaine have this information? Feeling shaky, Kurt couldn't work out if he was angry or scared. Perhaps both. But fear then took over as his hand fell on a small stack of photographs – of Burt Hummel. Burt Hummel working in his car shop. Burt Hummel eating a pretzel outside the cinema. Burt Hummel shaking the hands of various other politicians when his most recent bill was introduced in Washington. _Washington_. Burt rarely had to be away from home for a long length of time but that week he was tackling a collection of his biggest rivals who considered his views far too liberal for the country's own good. The bill had also garnered the most attention he had ever had, with media coverage slipping into the Lima streets when there was word Burt Hummel was there. Was this all connected to what Kurt was looking at sprawled across the bedroom floor? He tossed the photos into the case haphazardly and heard the sound of small objects rolling inside. He peered over the lip and saw a box which had opened, losing its contents. Bullets? Why would Blaine be carrying bullets – he had no gun! Kurt paused and felt an ice cold chill: did Blaine have a gun? Kurt rapidly searched the immediate area and saw no firearms yet he knew there was no logical reason for someone to be carrying a box of bullets with no gun. Blaine was armed.

Kurt's heart was pounding hard and fast now. Nothing made sense! In his mind he knew that if he had simply stumbled across the information and photos he could confront Blaine, asking why he seemed to do a background check on him as well as stalking him and his father. If he had only discovered the bullets he could have put it down to Blaine just being one of those people who like to be able to defend themselves. However, together he could not explain without stretching some type of logical thought process. Something then occurred to him: the sound of the water in the bathroom was gone. How long had Blaine been out of the shower? Kurt did not want to test fate so in a blind moment of panic he roughly stuffed everything back into the case and shoved it back towards the bed where he had found it. But he missed one piece of paper which he noticed sticking out from under the cabinet. He grabbed for it and made to put it in his pocket for a rapid clean up but words seemed to jump out at him. He had to read:

_In the week beginning the fourteenth, Congressman Hummel is stationed in Washington D.C. leaving Ohio residence unguarded. His flight information to and from the capital are also (Kurt Hummel, son of Congressman) predicted to be living at residence in his father's absence - SEE TARGET PROFILE FOR CHARACTER REFERENCE – he is your only concern. According to data, kidnapping it the preferred outcome however the alternative action of murder attempt is becoming more likely due to Congressman's recent public securing of support. As with code F-87, target must remain unaware prior to the attack – I need not remind you of last year's failure with Brody Carpenter. Do not reveal personal details to the target. If his father becomes aware of your presence he will cause an alert which must be avoided at all costs. The murder of the Congressman and his son (target)-_

'Kurt? What are you doing?'

The hand of fear clutched at Kurt's throat as he heard the voice behind him. Whipping round to face the doorway, he could not hide his terror. Blaine stood in a tank top and slacks with his hand still poised in towel-drying his hair. The man's suspicious eyes fell from the teen's face to the document in his hand. For many moments neither said anything. There was nothing Kurt could say. Blaine was a... So many words passed through his brain – _murderer, kidnapper, hired hit man, liar, dangerous person with reason to now act on his orders_ – yet collectively they jolted his legs to action. He had to run and escape. Blaine did not seem to be armed at that very second but having understood what Kurt had read he now carefully placed both hands up against the door frame to take out his only exit. With a sharp and deep intake of air, though, Kurt hurled himself at the door. Blaine dove towards him too and tackled his shoulders back. 'No-! Kurt, stop-!' Blaine ordered in an aggressive tone Kurt had never heard from him before now.

But Kurt didn't listen: he had to get away. As Blaine attempted to use his body weight to pin him down, Kurt turned and caught him behind the knees with a quick kick causing them to both fall on different sides of the room. With far more to lose, Kurt was first on his feet. Before getting out the door he was sure to fling behind him a nearby empty vase. He didn't stick around to see if it hit his target but the smash and cry of pain that followed gave him hope.

He soared down the hall and took the stairs three at a time – purely because he was flying through the air so fast he missed steps – to the foyer. _Get outside. Get out to the car. Keys are in the front door: grab them. Drive. Drive far away. Drive into town. Get to a phone. Call the police. Call dad-!_ Hand on the door knob, Kurt had a brain-scrambled plan somewhat but that all came to a shocking pause when he flung the door open only to see someone already standing on the other side of the frame.

The man was dressed in a suit and appeared to be in his late-thirties. His finger was frozen half-way up to the doorbell and he seemed well caught off guard at Kurt's sudden appearance. He had a badge on his lapel. _A cop was at his door!_ At that moment it did not matter how the cop knew to be there as Kurt let out a sob of instant relief. 'Whoa, slow down there, kid,' the man held up both hands. He was holding a gun. 'I'm Detective Massey from the Federal B-'

'You-! I-' Kurt panted, grabbing at the man's suit jacket in a frenzy that he only just realized he was in full swing of. 'Y-you have to help me! He's upstairs!'

'Slow down,' Detective Massey repeated, holding Kurt steady. 'Who's upstairs?'

_A hired hit man who got into my house to kidnap or kill me, probably sent by some crazed politician who runs against my dad and might use me for extortion or simply to punish my father's efforts – I don't know! _Kurt couldn't speak as his mind raced at a thousand miles per hour. 'Blaine- Blaine, he's- He's going to kill me. Sent here to kill- Please, please help me!'

A thump could be heard from up above: Blaine was on the move. Massey's eyes darkened and he moved Kurt back inside the house yet pushing him into the corner of the foyer. His gun-wielding arm reached out to aim at the stairs as his other hand silently told Kurt to stay in the shadows. 'Kurt- wait!' Blaine yelled from the top of the stairs: he had no idea they now had a third wheel join the party. The raven haired beauty was hurrying down the stairs and only just saw the officer in time to avoid the bullet which was fired at his chest. Instead, as he dove to the side, the bullet seemed to puncture his shoulder and a small burst of blood could be seen splattering on the railing. Kurt gasped in horror; he hadn't expected the detective to shoot without warning. Blaine wasn't armed – was this protocol? It didn't matter.

In an impressive feat of strength and speed, Blaine lunged back up the stairs and out of sight again before a second shot could be fired. The detective growled in anger and took off after him. Kurt was left downstairs in a shivering state of terror. Two sets of running footsteps followed by thunderous bumps and bangs preceded another few rounds of gunshots: Kurt's wide eyes were glued to the ceiling as if trying to work out where the two men were. Blaine had apparently made for his bedroom at the front of the house and Massey had worked through the other rooms before seemingly finding him. There was kicking. Someone was kicking at a door. Then there was a screeching noise, and finally a loud thump...coming from directly behind Kurt.

Blood running cold, the teen threw himself out of the shadows and to the front door. Down at the garden path lay Blaine. Wincing and gingerly holding his bleeding shoulder, it became obvious that he had jumped from the bedroom window above. Kurt opened his mouth to shout and his hand blindly reached for the door handle – _close it before he gets to you!_ – but Blaine was too fast for him. His glare murderous, the man tackled him and tried to wrestle him outside, but Kurt resisted. 'Get off me!' He cried out, kicking and swinging his fists all he could. Blaine was positively seething in frustration and a gun seemed to miraculously materialize in his hand. Kurt struggled harder. At last, Blaine seemed to grow tired of fighting with him and so he quickly shifted tactics by pushing against Kurt and hurtling them both into the living room. Another shot rang out...but it was not from Blaine's gun. Both of them turned to see the smoking hole in the hallway wall where they had been wrestling just moments ago. It appeared Detective Massey had heard their commotion and had tried to get Blaine again. The fact the bullet could have also very well hit Kurt was a detail not missed by the teen. It was from this simple fact which stole Kurt's energy allowing Blaine to manhandle him through to the kitchen in seconds.

The boy was dumped unceremoniously on the kitchen floor. Blaine turned back and jammed a nearby chair against the door knob to temporarily halt Massey, who could be heard coming towards them. Twisting on the tiles, Kurt panted as he stared up at his soon-to-be killer: Blaine had lost all colour from his face and sweat was pouring down his skin. A bullet through the shoulder would do that to you, Kurt supposed. The wound was pouring out blood now. Black curls clung to his forehead and his gaze appeared cloudy as he threw himself across the room to the cupboard under the sink. Kurt watched in terrified confusion when the older man swiped everything out in order to leave the area empty. Then, whilst still looking like he might collapse in the process, he twisted around and grabbed Kurt by the wrists. 'Get in,' He growled harshly. There was no gentleness and little care for the painful cries he had elicited from the boy when he forcibly shoved Kurt into the cupboard. _Is he going to kill me in here and leave me in the dark?_ Blaine shut one of the cupboard doors and then knelt down to meet Kurt's still-exposed face. 'Don't move,' Blaine hissed, eyes wild and deranged. 'Don't make a sound. Whatever you hear, you stay hidden unless I come get you. _Stay!_' And with that, he shut Kurt in.

Mere seconds later, there was a crashing sound: Massey had burst through the door after just two tries. His running was like a stampede. There was shouting. There was banging. Another shot. Then another. An almighty crash alerted Kurt to the breaking of the kitchen table and with tears now streaming down his face he clutched his hands over his ears and tried to block out all the mayhem that was occurring right next to him. The slither of light coming from the gaps in wood panelling flickered as people moved around near the sink. He pictured his father's face and wished he was with him. This was not their world: they lived a life of mediocrity and trivial family drama, not one that involved a killer sent to their home to kidnap or take out his 'target'. If he didn't make it out of here alive, did that mean Burt was going to come home tomorrow to find his only child dead on the kitchen floor? Or did Blaine plan to stick around to kill two birds with one stone? _Let me take care of your dad..._ Blaine had said that. He had planned to stay. Now hysterical at the thought of his dad coming home, suspecting nothing, only to be killed in cold blood by the same man who both screwed and murdered his son – Kurt might have vomited if he hadn't been hit by the new wave of searing hot tears.

Something big and heavy hit the cupboard and it caused Kurt to jump and injure his head badly on the back wall. His hands fell away from his ears and they were met with silence. No more fighting. No more shots. Someone had won. Kurt had no time to think beyond that before the door was opened again and Kurt was blinded by light.

Massey stared up at him – glassy eyes and mouth slightly ajar – inches from his feet. He was dead. The oozing blood from the hole in his temple explained why. Without intention and without care, Kurt's legs began kicking and he uselessly scrambled back against the unmovable wall behind him as a horrendous scream ripped his throat. A hand reached in and took him by the collar, yanking him out of his crude hiding spot and back across the kitchen again. Blaine was talking to him as he dragged but Kurt couldn't hear him over his own yelling. '_You k-killed him! You killed- Oh god, please, l-leave m-me-!'_ His only source of protection was gone. The detective had been his only saviour and now he had been taken out. Now it was Kurt's turn.

The teen's body had gone limp, unable to function with such a revelation hitting so hard. Blaine picked him up by the underarms and carried him out to the living room again. He tucked him in the corner beside the bookcase and armchair. He was handling Kurt's head to stop him looking back at the lifeless body in the next room. Kurt hit out at him in his sobs but his wrists were easily caught and pushed aside. Blaine was still talking to him. Odd words were beginning to land in Kurt's ears. 'Shhh, Kurt, it's okay now. Shh...' Kurt shook his head wildly all the while finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. 'Kurt, listen to me: you need to calm down. Deep breaths, come on.'

'You killed him.' Kurt managed to strain out the accusation through his pained throat.

Blaine sighed. 'Yes, I did. I had to-' Kurt was beginning to lose grip on what was happening. His hectic breathing was making him light-headed and he could feel his head swirling around even with Blaine's clammy stroking hands on his cheeks. There was another badge shining in his face now – this one looked a lot different from the one Massey had on him. What was going on? 'Kurt, I'm with the FBI.'

'Liar...' Kurt panted, looking away and hiding his face against the bookcase.

Blaine crawled closer and wrapped his arm around him now that the boy had no energy left to fight him off. 'I came here to protect you from a suspected kidnapping attempt. I'm an agent, understand? Kurt, you're safe now. I need you to focus on breathing – can you do that for me?'

The pounding in his head was all Kurt was willing to focus on until he eventually collapsed into the other's arms. He felt himself be consoled yet the world continued to fall away without his consent. 

* * *

><p>What had it been now – a week? Around a week, Kurt thought, since it all happened. And yet he was still tripping over officers who paraded around his house as if it were an office building of theirs. At first it had been comforting, and then scary, but by now Kurt was well and truly fed-the-fuck-up. When he came downstairs late that Saturday morning he was relieved to find that he had missed the worst of the morning rush. In fact, unless he was mistaken, his home was now completely FBI-free aside from the agent who was speaking to his father at the front door. At seeing the teen descending the stairs, the agent gave a nod and issued a brief goodbye. Burt closed the door behind him and then looked up to his son.<p>

'Is that-?' Kurt began.

'-the last of them gone for now? Yessir.' Burt smiled weakly. Even at the worst of his illness, Burt Hummel had never looked so tired and wiped out in his life. It had been a rough seven days. Kurt could not imagine the sickening notion which must have hit his father in D.C. when news of what happened to Kurt reached him. Even taking the first flight back out to Ohio took hours and hours that put him through parental hell despite everyone's utter assurance that his son was alright, albeit reportedly suffering from the trauma mentally.

For Kurt, it was a different story. He couldn't remember a thing beyond Blaine holding him. He couldn't recall hearing phone calls being made right in front of him and he had zero recollection of being taken to hospital. The moment he zoned back in on his surroundings was the moment he saw his dad's face as he raced down the white-washed corridor of the hospital ward. For at least three days they would not leave one another's side even for a nanosecond. Both were interrogated and Kurt must have heard the same questions over and over. He couldn't understand: didn't he already answer that? A rigorous investigation was underway to find the orchestrator of the planned attack. The man calling himself Detective Massey was revealed to be a Texan hit man named Frederick Campbell. His name was not new to the FBI's database. Little was said about his murder – was it murder if he too was a murderer? – and now it was mainly Burt that agents were at their home to see.

There was one person who seemed to have disappeared off the face of the planet: Blaine. Blaine, or Agent Anderson, as he was referred to as by officials, did not return to the house. Kurt's dad had told him only two nights earlier that he had met Agent Anderson at police headquarters. Despite other agents apparently being very unimpressed with their colleague's work, Burt hailed him as a hero. He had cried into the man's arms, praising him for keeping his son alive. Kurt then had reason to believe that he too would soon meet him again but it didn't happen. And as D.C. workers were filing back to the capital it was unlikely he ever would.

_It's for the best. _

Kurt had never been so incensed by another person in his life. As the week progressed he could fully digest the events preceding the attack and one thought continuously played like a broken record: _What the _fuck_ was he doing?_ _What kind of agent fraternises with the person he is only there to protect?_ All the bullshit secrecy and red herrings were the sign of a immature prick on a power trip. He still had told no one that they had slept together. In fact, when talking to officers he simply cut out every section of his story in which there was anything other than friendship hinted at. He doubted Blaine had been any more honest to his superiors. It still didn't make any sense to him: Blaine was an undercover agent sent to his home to be a line of defence for the suspected kidnapping yet his enticing and flirtatious actions told a different story.

'Kurt, come in here a second, bud.' At his dad's call, Kurt followed after him to the kitchen. The place was bare after all the broken pieces of furniture had been thrown out so all Kurt could do was lean on the counter. Burt gave a second deep sigh and showed him a clear plastic wallet containing what seemed to be a bunch of documents. Kurt was getting sick of pieces of paper by now. 'I want us to look through these tonight: they're safe houses we can use.'

Shaking his head almost immediately, Kurt slammed his hand down. 'Dad, no! We are not leaving. This is our home-!'

'I know, but until the bill is passed we're sitting ducks if we stick around.' Burt replied in a calm and firm manner. His gaze was soft as he gave a shrug. 'It's temporary, I swear. I just can't have you being in danger again – I won't let that happen. And that's why...' Kurt knew something was wrong when his father looked down at the floor. 'I'm not saying I've decided but I'm considering resigning. I'll have to, if they don't find the source of what happened last week.' His son instantly moved to argue, with his finger rising in a 'don't you dare!' fashion, but Burt was ready for him. 'I told you: I haven't decided yet. We'll talk it over tonight when we go over the safe houses. Also, Detective Banner has chosen to station only a couple of guys out front from now on instead of the usual six or seven.'

'None in the house?' Kurt was surprised, though not in any way disappointed.

His dad shook his head and they shared a smile. 'I wrangled a pretty good deal, huh? I said the only guy I'd let them station inside the house was their Agent Anderson but apparently he's now unavailable.' Kurt forced himself to be emotionless when his father narrowed his eyes. 'I thought that was a little weird.'

'He probably had to get back to write up reports, dad.' Kurt tried to gloss over the subject, 'And he was shot, remember? He's injured.'

If there was one thing Mr Hummel was not, it was a fool. His son's excuses were suspect. 'Kurt...I've been meaning to ask you: what did you and Agent Anderson do those days before-'

_Ding-Dong_

Kurt managed to avoid the upcoming question when he was saved by the door bell at the front door. He shrugged in a '_what can I do?_' manner before escaping out into the hallway. Burt could be heard grumbling, returning to his meal.

Despite recent events, Kurt had still not managed to fear the idea of a stranger at the door. During the last few days so many men and woman dressed up in business gear had been trampling through his home as if it were a public space and not a private residence. He expected to open the door to another official in a suit and tie but he did not expect to see Blaine being the one wearing it and standing just across the threshold. The dark haired man was nervous, that much was obvious, but he still had the audacity to offer a weak smile upon meeting Kurt's eyes. 'Hey,' He said. That was it. His voice was higher than usual and even an outsider could have sensed his awkwardness.

Kurt's gaze steeled over. 'If you'd be so kind as to wait here, I'll get my dad.' He replied coolly.

'No, wait-' Blaine took a step forward and stopped him from shutting the door over. 'Kurt, I came to talk to you.'

Letting out a huge irritated sigh and grudgingly let the door be pushed open again, Kurt folded his arms and let his bitch face settle in place. 'What do you want?'

'To know how you are.' Blaine swallowed. He looked so dapper in his fitted suit and tie ensemble and there was no sign of any bandaging around the shoulder area – why was it fair he could look so good when he was uncharacteristically so apprehensive? 'When I last saw you, you were so... I wanted to stay with you but I couldn't. My superiors...'

Trailing off in mid-sentence gave Kurt reason to believe he knew what he was referring to. 'I didn't tell anyone about what we did, if that's what you're worried about.' He snapped bitterly, his arms re-folding tighter than before.

'I wasn't,' Blaine insisted, and then shuffled his feet. 'I know. I know you didn't tell them, but I did.' That was more than a little surprising! 'I thought it was for the best, though I asked them to not bring it up with your dad and they agreed.'

'And won't your superiors be angry when they hear you came back to talk to me?' It didn't take a genius to guess that Blaine's actions probably hadn't resulted in an array of high fives and fond innuendo jokes back at his office.

'I'm on probation,' Blaine answered and looked downcast as he recited the reason as if quoting directly from his superiors themselves. ''For jeopardising the task I had control over, compromising every given situation through my relationship with the enemy's target and almost failing to protect said target when he was most at risk'.' Unable to prevent the look of amazement on his face, Kurt accidently began to pity him a little. Blaine took a breath and dug his hands in his pants pockets. 'The final decision on what will happen to me will be pending for a while. In the meantime, I've to head back to D.C. and help out with legal teams as a temporarily off duty as a field agent.'

Kurt's arms loosened around him and he leaned against the door frame. 'And yet...you're still here in Ohio.' He commented. The anger which had been blazing inside of him over the past week was ebbing away, much to his annoyance; unable to stick to his emotional guns when faced with the well-dressed, down-on-his-luck agent that had almost got him killed after trailing him along with lie after lie.

'I couldn't leave without seeing you.' That statement alone made a tear threaten to form in the corner of Kurt's eye. The agent shuffled uselessly on the spot. 'But I also couldn't bring myself to see you after all the...'

'Bullshit?' Kurt offered. Blaine gave a pained smile and nodded. They stood in silence, both gazing at the front step. At last, the teenager growled at himself and shoved Blaine to the side so he could join him out in the cold. He was careful to shut the door behind him to avoid his father overhearing. 'Tell me what possessed you to play around with me the way you did.'

His forwardness didn't come as a shock to the man next to him; he seemed ready to answer. 'I hadn't meant to play with you, Kurt.' Blaine insisted, wistful. 'It's just when I first saw you that night you let me in, I was...surprised. I was expecting a kid but instead I found this beautiful, interesting guy who made me feel excited again.' Kurt raised a brow and Blaine flushed, though he repeated the sentiment. 'You know the last time I felt so struck by another human being? Never. Seeing you looking so pissed off, tired and cold, wrapped up in some oversized clothes and still managing to be the only guy to make my heart pound harder with just a look – I've never experienced that before and I don't think I will again. And then I got to know you and I just couldn't help myself, Kurt, I'm sorry.'

Those were kind and flattering words and they took effect instantly; Kurt's heart swelled as if it too was blushing and his rigid bones of determination felt floppy in the most unnatural way. However, he was still shaking his head in frustration at his own lack of understanding. 'Then why not just _tell_ me why you were there? It was no secret I was taken by you as well so you should've just told me who you were instead of all the mysterious and totally misleading clues-'

In two steps Blaine had closed the gap between them and Kurt stumbled back into the wall of the house in surprise. The agent's hand moved up as if to take his but it was like he remembered who he was and – more importantly – who Kurt was. 'I-I was given orders not to let you suspect anything was wrong. I was told to be here with you and protect you from whatever might happen, but under no circumstances was I to let you in on anything because it would compromise secrecy of the mission and I ran the risk of you being a spoiled brat who would run away in defiance.' He paused and gave a little laugh, 'Lucky for me you weren't one of those.'

Kurt's stare softened. He leaned back and perched on the chair-height window ledge and peered down at his hands. 'Don't act like in the few days you were here you got to know everything about me, because you didn't. And I know nothing about you. I thought I was getting to know who you were but now it's like you're this guy I've never seen before in a super-expensive suit who has this impeccable ability to lie.'

'Well, I'm not lying now.' Blaine knelt down so he was almost level with him. In a move which took the teenager by surprise, hands clasped over his. Blaine's hands felt so warm despite the freezing wind. 'And if you want to know, then I'll tell you exactly who I am. My full name is Blaine Devon Anderson, I'm twenty five years old and I'm from Michigan though I grew up in Dayton just a few hours from here.' Taken aback, Kurt went to insist he did not need to give out this information (even if it was strangely captivating to hear the truth), but Blaine continued on without let up. 'Both my father and grandfather worked within the CIA, my mother for the FBI until she retired to raise my older brother and I. The government has placed me on seventeen missions since I became a full agent but none have come close to the one I received two and a half weeks ago when I was sent to meet you.' His hand squeezed Kurt's. 'And I am ashamed that I dragged it all out, pretending I was something I wasn't. I just...wanted to be interesting enough to impress you. I'm dumb like that. But the single most important thing about me at this very moment is that I am...' He took a shivering breath, his eyes widening wide. Scared. 'so deeply in love with you.'

'Kurt, are you okay?' It was a blessing that Burt called out before wandering out onto the porch. His accidental warning gave a stunned Kurt time to stand up and move away from Blaine's hold before his father could clap his eyes on what would have been a very suspect scene. Burt did, though, sense something was amiss when he saw Blaine wringing his hands and Kurt pressing his lips together whilst avoiding eye contact. 'Agent Anderson,' Burt greeted slowly, 'you came back,'

Blaine offered a grin. 'I'm sorry for intruding – especially when you have finally got some quiet back into your home. I just had to...say goodbye to Kurt.' Both Kurt and his dad looked to him but it was the teen who appeared very off-balanced by the news. 'I, uh, head back to Washington tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow – I thought you were here a bit longer than that?' Kurt hadn't meant to sound as desperate but he figured his dad had worked out why by now.

'It's either that or I take the vacation time I was offered.' Blaine continued as if everyone was included in the conversation yet his eyes were gazing at Kurt alone. 'I rejected it before because...' He laughed nervously, 'Well, with my shoulder healing up at the rate it is, what am I gonna do with all that time off?'

Burt sensed it was time for him to fake hearing a phone call inside. He put up his hand as if to say he would come back after answering the 'call' before disappearing back indoors but no one doubted that he was simply going to avoid overstaying his welcome on the porch. 'How long did they offer?' Kurt asked softly.

Blaine shrugged. 'I don't take holidays normally, so with the added recovery time and the probation excuse, they said I could have a couple of months easy.' They stared into one another's eyes for a very long time. Kurt wasn't sure why he was suddenly very anxious: it was like he was facing a pinnacle point, a defining decision, and the answer was as confusing as the unasked question. 'But...there's no point in stalling going back to work unless there was something else to focus on, right?'

'Right...' Kurt agreed.

Blaine waited but nothing else was said. He then swallowed hard and cleared his throat. 'Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you out here in the cold – I should go.'

With a polite nod, the agent moved past Kurt and was pacing down the garden path before Kurt could grasp what he'd just done – or didn't do. The black Mustang parked in the drive flashed as it was remotely unlocked. _This is it. This is the last time you'll see him. He's going to drive away and get on a plane to take him back to D.C. where you will never have any reason to bump into him again. Kudos, Kurt. Well done. It's what you wanted, right?_ At that moment, a cartoon character could have leapt into his world and hit him on the head with an oversized mallet and it still would not have floored him as much as he already was. 'Wait – Blaine!' His feet took off running. Blaine turned back. 'I want you to-' Kurt's hand reached out – and his foot slipped on the icy top porch step, sending him flying to the ground with a loud and pained '_Oooff!_'

'Kurt!' Blaine darted towards him with a panicked expression on his face. Kurt groaned, wincing as he peeled his face off the gravel path. He had scraped his temple badly enough to cause a cut deep enough to bleed. Later he would be thankful that the rest of his face was mostly unscathed as his elbows and legs took most of the damage falling on snow, but his priority was not himself for once. He felt Blaine's arms slide under him and he was helped into a sitting position on the ground. 'Are you alright? Are you hurt?'

'No!' Kurt's answer came out as a whine, and for whatever crazy reason he felt the urge to slap Blaine hard across the face. So he did. Blaine fell back and was dazed, holding his own cheek whilst staring questioningly back at him. 'That's for playing with me before.' Kurt then kicked out and got him on the shin which caused him to curse in pain. 'And that's for not coming back to see me sooner.'

'Kurt, I don't underst-'

'I want you to stay, idiot!' Kurt snapped. He huffed, only succeeding in making himself look pitiful in the process. 'I want you to stay here. I want to actually get to know you and I want you to be with me because God knows I'm not all that great at taking care of myself!' He motioned down at his messed up state and threw a little gravel at him in faked anger.

Dumbfounded, Blaine seemed to doubt his own ears until Kurt shuffled closer towards him. Kurt gently removed Blaine's hand from his bruising cheek and pulled it onto his, inching his mouth forward to at last meet the agent's in a pleading kiss. Blaine took all of two seconds to get over his surprise and was eagerly kissing back whilst guiding the boy's body further into him. Suddenly he released a pained gasp and Kurt jerked back. Blaine winced. 'My shoulder. I think it's getting worse.'

_What, now?!_ Kurt's inner voice shrieked at the horrible timing but outwardly he managed to show sympathy. 'Sorry, I shouldn't have touched your arm-'

Blaine grimaced again and gingerly rolled his shoulder. 'There's no way I can return to work like this, right? I mean, I'm a mess,'

'Don't be stupid, you look more handsome than-'

'_Kurt_,' Blaine looked up at him through thick black lashes, his gaze playful. 'I'm. A. Mess. I can't go back to D.C. like this. I need,' He leaned in and licked Kurt's bottom lip. 'a good, well dressed doctor to look after me. Preferably one who has a beautiful voice to sing me to sleep. Know of anyone?'

At last understanding, Kurt giggled and snuggled in closer. 'It just so happens we have a room that recently opened up. Lucky, huh?'

'Very lucky,' Blaine chuckled back, before pulling Kurt onto him and falling back on the ground. Burt Hummel looked out from an upstairs window in resigned amusement. He watched them frolic and tumble around in the snow, a vague idea of what just happened, and against his better judgement he went off to prepare the guest bedroom.

_There's no way you're getting into my son's bed that easily, buddy..._

* * *

><p>A.N. Why do I feel like I need to apologise to people when a fic of mine doesn't involve Dark!Blaine? Still, hope it was enjoyable and I'll be posting Red Light District soon so please review or PM with your comments!<p> 


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